


Fables and Truths

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan (Non-Canon AUs) [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:17:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3196766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fic. In another age, far into the future, a Dalish woman and her daughter take shelter with a hedge mage and share the story of how the Dread Wolf lost his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fables and Truths

The storm was worse than Elonwen had predicted when she left the shemlen city. She had not even reached the main gate by the time she caught the scent of damp air, yet she’d decided to press on. She cursed that decision now as she heard the low rumble of thunder in the distance, heavy droplets beginning their quickening pace to the ground. She should have tried to find shelter for the night in some inn. It wouldn’t have been ideal and she knew how the humans would look upon her marked face with suspicion, but her daughter was ill. She couldn’t afford to get caught in the rain.

Her child was the reason she wandered from her home, seeking out a human healer when it was clear her clansmen could do little to help ease her da’len’s sickness. Ragged coughs tore into the little girl’s chest, made her wheeze and shudder, her face pale from lack of sleep. It had infuriated Elonwen how unconcerned the shem healer had been – how he had taken only a brief look at the child before holding up a tincture and demanding payment. She was skeptical, but she was desperate. She prayed the medicine would help soon.

The cave she found for shelter had not been unoccupied. She could tell the man was an elf from his build, even with the hood pulled up over his head, his body swathed in dark robes. He sat beside a fire in quiet contemplation before glancing up, surprised at the unexpected company. He looked the pair over briefly before pulling down the scarf that obscured his jaw. “Andaran atish’an.” He said softly, gesturing for them to sit.

Elonwen’s eyes narrowed. “A flat ear who speaks Elvish?”

His expression shifted subtly, though it was difficult to discern if he was annoyed or amused. “You are not the first to question it, nor will you be the last. Sit.” He urged her.

As Elonwen positioned herself across the fire from the stranger, her daughter’s coughing began once more – a painful, uncontrollable gasping fit. She ran her hand against her back soothingly, wishing there were more she could do. “The child is ill?” She glanced up at the man and gave a short nod. “I can offer my assistance as a healer.”

“You’re a mage?” He nodded quietly. “Are you from the Academies of Magi?”

“No.” He said plainly. “I learned my trade through other means.” He held out his hand to the little girl who looked up at her mother for permission. Elonwen nodded and the girl scooted closer to the stranger. It did not take long – a few gentle brushes of his hand against the girl’s back and already she could hear the difference. Her breaths were deeper, clearer. The girl smiled appreciatively as the man looked down at her. “Better?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Much.”

“Sylaise’s blessings upon you.” Elonwen thanked him, her cautious look warming into a smile. “Ma serannas.”

“It was the least I could do.” He said simply.

He quieted then, watching them as the girl squirmed back over to her mother’s side. Elonwen kissed her daughter on the head, patting down the unruly mop of auburn curls. “Lay your head down, Isii.” She murmured. “You need to rest.”

She saw the hedge mage still as the girl laid down, nuzzling the crook of her neck against her mother’s thigh. Though his expression was not quite readable, he was clearly affected. “Your child’s name is Isii?” Elonwen nodded. “An unusual name,” he continued softly. “Not one I have heard often. May I ask how she came by it?”

“She is named for a famous Dalish woman. Isii Dirth’asha of Lavellan.”

The child brightened at the mention of the name, tugging on her mother’s sleeve. “Tell the story of Dirth’asha, Mamae.”

“Another time, da’len.” She murmured. “I’m certain the mage does not want to be bothered with it.”

“I would not mind.” He said. There was a stillness in his face that she found unsettling as he looked at her. Elonwen did not need to glance at the rain beyond the entrance to the cave to know the storm would keep them there for most of the night. A shared story was not the worst way to pass the time. She looked down into her daughter’s face, stroking her hair gently as she began.

“A long time ago, in what the shemlen call the Dragon Age, there lived an elf named Isii – a skilled mage, the First of Clan Lavellan. Her power was so great and her faith so true that one day, Mythal decided to bless her with a secret form of magic – a mark upon her hand with which she could manipulate the very fabric of existence. Such a thing is very dangerous in the wrong hands, but Mythal knew that Isii’s heart was pure. She could be trusted with the power of the gods. The Great Protector knew that Isii would keep it safe.

“But the Dread Wolf grew jealous. He heard word of Mythal’s gift and he wanted it for himself. So he waited and he lurked, hunting down the mage, intending to steal the mark. One night, he caught her in the woods. They fought. It was a vicious battle. He ripped the vallaslin from her face with his teeth, for the symbol of her faith so offended him, yet still she did not waver, lashing out with wave after wave of her magic. He desperately tried to latch his snapping jaws around her hand, to rend the power of Mythal’s mark from her flesh, but the mark would not budge and Isii did not shrink back in fear. The Wolf realized that they were evenly matched and retreated, determined to try again.”

She glanced up at the hedge mage. His jaw was set, his eyes narrow, yet he did not appear hostile. Irritated? It was difficult to tell.

“The Dread Wolf knew he could not defeat her by force. She was a powerful mage and with the might of Mythal in her hand, she could even stand against a god like himself. So he planned and he plotted. He disguised himself as a handsome elf and came to Isii again, murmuring in her ear, whispering promises of pleasure. Still, the mage would not be swayed, for she knew how to resist temptation. The Wolf realized she would not be so easily tricked. He knew that often, such things take time. So he pledged himself to serve as her ally and she accepted. The Dread Wolf grinned, pleased with himself, for he knew that given enough time, he could convince her to hand over the blessing willingly. If he had her trust then he could have whatever he wanted.

“He stayed close, fighting at her side, even when the malicious Forgotten One Geldauran escaped his prison deep in the Abyss and strove to tear open the sky in order to destroy the Creators, still trapped within the Heavens. Even though the Great Betrayer cared little for their fate or the fate of the world, he knew that fighting her battles would raise him up in her eyes. So they struggled and he watched as she led the great armies, shemlen and elven alike, using the Mark of Mythal to defeat the ancient god.

“The more the Wolf watched, the more he saw. She was beautiful. She was strong and fearsome. Her cunning could match his own. The pair became friends and the friends – something more. He lied to himself, said it meant little, said it was all a part of the trick. But the Dread Wolf knew he’d lost his heart to her – and even the Lord of Tricksters did not have a way to get it back.

“He followed her closely, waiting, observing. He would traipse through her dreams, showing her secrets – hidden magics and lost knowledge, things only a god could whisper in your ear. The more time he spent there with her, the more he fell in love until he wanted her mind just as much as her body. One night, she kissed him. Called him vhenan. The Dread Wolf knew he’d been trapped. He was leashed and powerless to pull away.

“But this left the Wolf conflicted. He no longer knew what to do. He did not want to hurt her and he no longer had any desire to take the mark from her. He loved Isii and she loved him. He hoped that would be enough. But she was a mortal and he was not. She would age and die and he would live on. He would lose her to time and the thought made him weep.

“She saw his tears and kissed them away and with each kiss he told her a truth – that he had lied to her, that he had wanted the mark for himself, that he was the Dread Wolf and he loved her more than anything in the world. But Isii was smarter than the Wolf had assumed. She had known from the beginning, recognized him when he came to her, and she loved him nonetheless.

“She prayed to Mythal for guidance, afraid. She had given her heart to the enemy of the gods, but she knew he was not as wicked as others claimed. The Great Protector told her that their union could have her blessing if he atoned for the Betrayal. If he tore through the stars and breathed magic back into the lands of Thedas.

“He promised Isii that he would do as Mythal asked, pledging to her that he would return as soon as it had been done. But his journey was a long one. Difficult and alone. He never did see her again. Ever since that day, the Dread Wolf has wandered on without his heart, for it had been left behind with Isii.”

The stranger’s reaction to the story was puzzling. He listened intently, his cool and quiet blue eyes looking out into the middle distance. Occasionally his lip would curl into a small smile. Other times, he’d shake his head, quietly scoffing. Now, though, he stilled, glancing up at her. “And what of Isii?” He asked, his voice soft. “What do they say happened to her?”

“Isii spent a number of years waiting for her Wolf to return to her and she achieved many great things. She pushed for rebuilding the elven homelands, fought to give us villages of our own so the Dalish would wander no longer. She argued for peace and unity between the elves and the shemlen – to allow each to co-exist throughout the lands of Thedas. She shared those whispered secrets from the Dread Wolf about the nature of the gods and magic. And while many did not believe her, she persisted. The People began to call her Dirth’asha – the woman of hidden knowledge.

“Then one day, she grew tired of waiting. She had done what she could for the People and she missed her Wolf. She traveled to the West, deep into the Tirashan, hunting for him, trying to catch his scent. She went North and delved into the ancient forests of Arlathan. Then ventured further, bearing the mighty dust storms and arid steppes of the Anderfels. And after years of searching, when her body could no longer carry her, Mythal took her spirit and spread it among the Heavens, so that she could still look down and continue searching for her vhenan. They say when the Dread Wolf howls and the stars quake, it is Isii calling out for him to find her.”

The stranger’s gaze fell. His silence seemed to hang heavy on his shoulders now, his eyes glassy, deep in thought. “Are you alright?” Elonwen asked.

He glanced up, giving a small but distracted nod. “It is a curious story.”

“It’s merely a fable.”

“Yet there are certain truths in it. Of this I am certain.” He looked over to the entrance to the cave. The rain was lighter now, but still coming down at a steady pace. Slowly, he lifted himself to his feet. “I think it is best if I take my leave now.”

“But the storm, it’s –”

“I will not be harmed by a little rain.” He said calmly, tightening the binding of his robes. “I do advise you and your daughter stay put, however. We would not want little Isii’s cough to return after catching a chill.” He looked at the little girl curiously, kneeling beside her. “You have a very worthy name, da’len.” He whispered, tipping her chin with his fingers. “More than you know.”

Elonwen’s brow lowered, peering at him curiously. The man said nothing else, rising to his feet once more and turning to go, straightening his hood and walking out into the night.

The fire he made remained and needed little tending, the magical flames radiating out a consistent heat. Even as the rain outside slackened, Elonwen knew it was best to stay there rather than risk getting lost in the woods at night. She curled up with Isii, arms wrapped protectively around her child and drifted off to sleep in the glow of the hedge mage’s gift.

That night, she awoke to the sound of a howl, deep and mournful and aching at its core, making the very foundation of Thedas tremble in its wake. And when the rains picked up again, it was as if the Heavens themselves were weeping in response.

**Author's Note:**

> The bit about the Academies of Magi is my idea of what would eventually replace the Circles.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Andaran atish’an – Enter this place in peace.
> 
> Ma serannas – my thanks


End file.
